Page 29 of How to Wed a Courtesan

Lord Rawley regarded her with an open look of sheer desperation. ‘She is the most important thing in all my life.’

Lottie liked the Viscount very much. He didn’t regard her in a libidinous fashion, as did so many men of the ton. He respected her as much as he would the daughter of a duke. And he would do anything for the woman he loved.

Perhaps in that way he reminded her somewhat of Evander. His loyalty to the woman of his choice was unwavering, his purpose steadfast. Lottie’s heart flinched at the recollection of Evander. He had yet to return to London after his years in the country, where he tended to his ill mother.

Perhaps that was for the best. Seeing him never became easier.

‘I would suggest that if Lady Caroline is truly important, you treat her as such,’ Lottie said. ‘Make her know what she means to you. From what you’ve told me of her, I believe she will be overjoyed at your affection.’

Of course Lottie could not reveal that Lady Caroline too was one of her students. Identities must be kept confidential, no matter the circumstance.

Lord Rawley nodded to himself, lost in deep thought, as though already formulating a plan. And truly Lottie hoped he was. Poor Lady Caroline was besotted with the Viscount, and wanted nothing more than for Lord Rawley to open himself to her.

Speaking of the lovely Lady Caroline, her session with Lottie was next—but thankfully she would have a bit of time to herself before the lady was due to arrive.

It was in that respite that Lottie studied her drawing room, revelling in a spell of silence before she once more assumed her role as tutor to the ton. She ran her fingertips over the strings of the harp sitting in the corner and a gradient melody rippled from the instrument. She didn’t play, but her mother had. It was for that reason Lottie had gone to the expense of purchasing the item and keeping it in her drawing room. Likewise, the diamond-patterned Brussels weave carpet had been bought with her father in mind. As though pieces of them still followed her, even in a world they wouldn’t approve of.

A knock came from the double doors and Lottie’s maid, Sarah, breezed in. Of all Lottie’s staff, Sarah was the most trusted. Not only did she see to the running of the house, but also to the hiring of staff—all of whom were selected with great care, as Lottie required the utmost discretion from her servants.

‘More flowers from the Earl of Westix,’ Sarah said in a bright chirp.

Lottie shot her an exasperated look. ‘I don’t want them.’

‘You never do, lovey.’ Sarah set them on the smooth marble surface of the side table, turning the bouquet this way and that as she assessed each angle with a careful eye.

‘Yet you always insist I keep them.’ Lottie grudgingly looked upon the flowers as the familiar constriction tightened in her chest.

They were lovely. They always were. But flowers could not mend old hurts. They could not bring back trust. Nor could they make a lady out of a courtesan.

‘That man loves you.’ Sarah handed her a small note. ‘Perhaps I harbour hopes you’ll find happiness with him again.’

Lottie scoffed, but still accepted the note. ‘Perhaps?’

Sarah shrugged with a cheeky grin and disappeared out through the doors, closing them behind her as she left.

Lottie fingered the small note as she studied the deep red and purple arrangement. The roses were extraordinary, with rippled petals, in a red as brilliant as a geranium. No doubt the card would explain it.

She lifted the small flap and found the same familiar neat script which always accompanied the flowers.

China roses for everlasting grace and beauty. Hyacinth for sorrow and forgiveness.

If only forgiveness could come so easily.

‘Excuse the intrusion,’ Sarah said.

Lottie startled, not having heard another knock or the doors opening again.

‘You have a guest.’

Sarah looked like a cat that had swallowed a canary. Which meant the guest was not Lady Caroline arriving early—a fact confirmed by a glance at the gilded bracket clock, which revealed there was still a half-hour before Lady Caroline’s appointment.

‘Your visitor is not Lady Caroline.’ Sarah raised her brows. ‘It’s Lord Westix.’

‘Tell him—’

‘He knows you’re at home.’ Sarah batted her long-lashed green eyes innocently at Lottie.

The older woman was impudent, but she knew Lottie would never put her out. Perhaps that was why she was so bold. Though if Lottie were being grudgingly honest, she knew it was because Sarah was her friend.